


smile when the blood it hits the floor

by APgeeksout



Category: NXT, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Gen, Introspection, Resentment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 11:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3325958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APgeeksout/pseuds/APgeeksout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were always going to end up on opposite sides of the ring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	smile when the blood it hits the floor

**Author's Note:**

> Canon has been a little squirrelly about how much of professional wrestler Kevin Steen's personal history and career is shared by kayfabe character Kevin Owens. I'm writing about the fictional Owens here, and haven't tried to mirror exactly any real-life timelines or relationships for purposes of this fic.
> 
> Title snagged from Springsteen's "The Wrestler"

The first time Kevin crosses an ocean, Sami is with him, crammed next to him in coach seats on a late-night flight to London, talking about the show in whispers that are still too loud for the businessmen across the aisle.

Germany. Mexico. Saudi Arabia. Turkey. Malaysia. Australia. A million other places besides. Crossing borders and filling up their passports. Together

Wrestling gets most of their time. It has to; it's the whole point. But even in a tight tour schedule, there's dead time. Time for taking pictures at the tourist spots, for dragging Sami out to explore zoos in the afternoons, and letting Sami drag him to hear bands in the tiny, crowded clubs he somehow knows how to find in every city in the world.

 

They're hardly each others' first kiss, or even first lazy screw with a tag partner, but Sami is the first guy he's made a habit of crawling into bed with - both of them bruised and still bloody, exhausted and elated - to actually sleep. He's pretty sure the same is true for Sami.

 

They were always going to end up on opposite sides of the ring. No one wrestles to share top honors, and for as much as they each stand out from the crowd, they're both just like everybody else in this one way: bound for the top, no matter who that road goes through.

It works, though. They put on a great fucking show every time. Kevin gives Sami the respect of not holding back against him, and expects the same in return. Sami doesn't disappoint.

Hostility between them is never more permanent than the peace, and when it's over - even when they've spent weeks busting each other open, even when it's started to feel _personal_ \- they're always among each others' first well-wishers behind the curtain. Promotions change, gimmicks change, but this never does.

 

Long-distance relationships are fucking hard. He sees now, clearer than before, why so many of the people he's known in the business don't bother trying to have anything real unless they're ready to retire or lucky enough to find it with someone in the same promotion. Kevin's been in matches that felt like less work than trying to carve out time on the road to talk to his girl. She's worth it, though. Ten times over.

Sami doesn't really get it – and if Kevin's being honest, he's a little smug about having arrived somewhere first – but he doesn't give him shit about it, either. Just takes pictures for him to email back to her (being a dork in front of the giraffe habitat, being serious in the ring) and clears out of the room to give him privacy for her calls and does his own thing more and more on his own.

 

Sami is his best man. There was never any question. Not on Kevin's end, anyway.

The wedding is the day before North American auditions for one of the promotions they used to talk about in beat-up rentals on empty highways – not WWE, but a stepping stone to it, maybe, if they're good and lucky – and there'd been a long, sick moment when he was sure Sami was going to beg off.

But, he's here, fucking suited up, red beard trimmed neat. Fixing Kevin's tie before he takes his place at the end of the aisle. Dancing with Kevin's new sister-in-law. Giving a toast that has the entire reception eating out of the palm of his hand. Swirling with the two of them in a group hug before he ducks out to get on the road. Sami Zayn is a sweetheart, even when he's bailing on you.

 

It's a minor, not altogether sweet, victory to have finally found something Sami isn't even a little smooth or graceful at.

It's maybe the hardest they've laughed together in a while, both recognizing how out-of-his-element Sami is with a baby in his arms. Eventually, Kevin takes pity on him and takes his boy back, his son a light, sweet weight against his shoulder while Sami tells him all about Japan.

 

He'd always imagined – once parenthood started featuring in his imagination – that Zayn would be “Uncle Sami” to his kids. But it hasn't quite worked out that way. He comments on Kevin's facebook pictures of la famille Owens outside the monkey house or in front of the glass wall of the penguin exhibit, but when Kevin's going through old snapshots – helping put together a truly bad-ass poster for career day in Mrs. Reid's first-grade class – he has to identify Sami.

 

Their paths cross, now and then. Different promotions, different destinations, but sometimes it works out. When it does, they try to get a late dinner somewhere, catch up before Sami departs for the nearest international airport and Kevin heads back home for bedtime stories and birthday parties.

Sami always picks up the check.

He's being a nice guy; that's all.

 

When WWE developmental comes knocking, he's Sami's first call (after his parents, anyway; Kevin never used to notice what a good kid Sami always was). It means a lot to him, really, that Sami wants to share his good news with him. That he cares enough not to let him hear it first in the dirt sheets or on twitter.

It's awesome news, and inevitable that they'd wake up and sign him. Kevin tells him as much, and because he really does mean them, the words only cut his throat a little on the way out.

 

It almost hurts to look at Sami, finally holding his belt, and beaming bright enough to burn Kevin's eyes. He buries his face in Sami's neck – a gesture that feels both more and less familiar than it should after all this time – and when he pulls away, he sees that he's marked him, blood from the reopened slice on his nose leaving the same stains on them both.

 

The official holds the Championship aloft, and Kevin follows it with his eyes. He doesn't look at Sami yet. Doesn't need to.

They both know they were always going to end up here.  Together.


End file.
